


In Which Tommy Says "Aight Imma Dip"

by ScumbagSimon



Category: Video Blogging RPF
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Author is a TommyInnit Apologist (Video Blogging RPF), Blood Vines | The Crimson | The Egg, Canon-Typical Violence, Fix-It, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Happy Ending, Happy Toby Smith | Tubbo, Happy TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF), No Beta We Die Like Henry, Piglin Technoblade (Video Blogging RPF), Prisoner Clay | Dream (Video Blogging RPF), Ram Hybrid Toby Smith | Tubbo, Running Away, Scared TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF), Temporary Character Death, Ten Years Later, Then comes back after ten years, Traumatized Tommyinnit (Video Blogging RPF), Wilbur Soot and Technoblade and TommyInnit are Siblings, self imposed exile
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-02
Updated: 2021-03-02
Packaged: 2021-03-15 08:01:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,807
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29805360
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ScumbagSimon/pseuds/ScumbagSimon
Summary: Tubbo was dead.The discs were in Dream's control, the SMP was being poisoned by parasitic red vines, and the lava had never looked so welcoming.And Tubbo was dead.
Comments: 9
Kudos: 105





	In Which Tommy Says "Aight Imma Dip"

Tubbo was dead.

The discs were in Dream's control, the SMP was being poisoned by parasitic red vines, and the lava had never looked so welcoming.

And Tubbo was dead.

It didn't surprise Tommy that Punz hadn't come to his rescue. A handful of cheap discs, a few emerald blocks, a broken trident, they were nothing compared to what Dream was probably paying him. He couldn't blame him, either, as much as he wanted to.

Tommy wasn't bound as Dream walked him through the nether, at least not in the physical sense. It was as if his brain had been shut off, leaving his body to carry him numbly across the burning hot rocks, pushing through the ash that drifted through the air like snow and clung to his skin. All he could do was stare at the ground in front of him, but that was fine, because if he closed his eyes all he could see was the blood spewing from Tubbo's neck, head flopping uselessly backwards, kept on his body by just a flap of skin and maybe a few tendons, body limp and completely silent just before his eyes glazed over.

All he could see was Dream standing over him, sword dripping sticky, with a satisfied hum as if he'd finally swatted the fly that buzzed around his ears.

The ground in front of him turned to blackstone as he stepped onto the path leading to the nether hub. He took no time to plan or think about what he was doing—as soon as there was a cliff below, he whipped around and shoved Dream off the edge. It was probably only his lack of planning that saved him. Neither of them expected it.

“Tommy!” Dream spluttered as he emerged from the lava, so far below and untouched. “You-”

He didn't care to wait around and listen to what Dream had to say. As soon as the man was held down by the heavy molten rock he was on the move, torn shoes pounding on the blackstone as he fled.

The portal filled him with nausea, but he shook it off as he stepped out. Thick vines hung heavy from the ruins of the community house. The sky was blue and unblemished, as if it had no idea what the world had lost. Maybe it didn't. Tubbo died away from the sky, away from the grass and the sun and the flowers and the bees. Dream would probably burn his body in the nether. He'd never see the clouds again.

Tommy stared at the world around him, picked a direction, and started walking.

  
  


First, he crossed a mountain, gravel and stone. Then, an ocean on a hastily made boat. He hit a snow biome then, and realized that this was the island where Snowchester resided. He didn't linger.

The sun rose and set five times before he conjured the bravery to sleep. A hole in the side of a hill, on a pile of loose wool. Perhaps he was too tired to dream, because he fell asleep at sunset and woke at noon with nothing but blissful darkness in between. His legs ached from walking and his arms from rowing, but he once again got up and began to move. Not far enough.

Several villages he passed through, only stopping to trade for bread and carrots, and once for a new pair of shoes since his were falling apart at the seams. He gave the old ones to a lava pool he found a day later. The smell of burning rubber lingered for only a minute.

The sun rose and set three more times. He walled off a small cave and stayed there for the night. He woke up screaming. He moved on.

After a while, he lost track of the days. The people in villages started to speak strange languages he couldn't understand. There was vegetation he didn't recognize, and animals too. He kept going.

One day, in a village on the edge of a forest, he found a woman with the ears of a mooshroom who said hello to him in his own language. He talked to her for a while and found that he'd been traveling for almost four months. She taught him a few words in the village's language. This was far enough.

The woman was named Ades, and lived with her wife, Gina. She let Tommy stay in their spare bedroom until he could build a house of his own. He towered over the both of them in height, yet found himself a bit afraid of Gina, who was muscular and scarred and spoke with a dangerous, warning voice. He quickly found that they were both to be trusted. He didn't tell them where he came from. They didn't ask.

Over the next few months, he found a spot a bit away from the village and built a house. He started a potato farm, remembering his pseudo-brother in a land far away. He got a beehive, remembering a boy with bright laughter and messy hair. He moved into his new house and paid Ades and Gina for their kindness in potatoes and honey. The three of them spent an evening combining the two foods together and debating whether it was good or not. Tommy decided he liked it.

He spent his time farming, building, and eventually selling his crop when he had too much to eat. He expanded his farm and built a secret cubbyhole to keep his savings in. He bought new clothes and hid the ratty old ones with his money.

He ventured, one day, to the nether. His portal was kept in his basement, carefully hidden from the village children who often wandered to his secluded house to play (he thought he would mind, but he didn't), and spent several hours finding a fortress. He came home with twenty two blaze rods and a single wither skull, which he mounted above his doorway. An ender chest was placed beside his bed, and he indulged into the past.

There wasn't much left, since he'd given all his wealth to Punz in a desperate plea for help. All that remained had little or no value to anyone but himself—a torn, bloodstained trench coat, a guitar with a broken string, a stack of pictures. He figured nobody here would care enough to steal them, so he put them on his wall. Him and Tubbo on a beach, Wilbur and Techno as kids, Ranboo giving Tubbo a piggyback ride. There were more, but he kept those in a drawer instead. He bought a new string for the guitar, and asked Ades to sew the hole in Wilbur's jacket. While he waited for her to work, he summoned the bravery to look in a mirror for the first time since he'd left the DreamSMP. It had been months, almost a year, and he barely recognized himself. The scars on his face were white rather than pink, his hair was almost to his shoulders, the baby fat was receding from his cheeks. He was muscular from farming, and he was taller too, but only an inch. He doubted he'd grow much more, and that was fine with him.

The jacket found a home in his closet, carefully placed on a hanger. By the light of his fireplace, he learned to play the guitar.

He was healing, he realized one day as he smiled at the picture of him and Tubbo. But he wasn't whole. Not quite.

Another year passed. He got a horse to carry him to and fro. He added a second story to his house. He made a clear and well lit pathway from his house to the village. He became fluent in their language and helped a few newcomers get settled. The people of the village began to recognize him by name. He woke up screaming less and less.

One day, four years after he'd first arrived, the village announced they were having a festival. He helped with the planning and tried to let go of old memories. He only had one panic attack when he watched the firework show.

“Do you have regrets?” he'd asked Ades by the bonfire that day, watching the flames flicker and remembering the smell of L'Manburg's crater. “Anything you would go back and change?”

“Regrets, yes,” Ades nodded, her dark curly hair beginning to be streaked with gray. “Things I would take back? No. I am happy with my life. The things that happened to me have led me here, to this wonderful moment. I am not glad the bad things happened, but I can be grateful.”

Tommy shifted in his seat, not used to the missing weight on his side where a sword used to rest. Maybe he'd never be used to it. “Do you think that you should forgive the people that did bad things to you?”

“No,” Ades said simply, accent rough but pleasant. “Not if they meant to hurt you. Did yours mean to?”

Tommy thought of Dream. He thought of Wilbur and Sapnap. “Some of them.”

“Forgive those who deserve forgiveness,” Ades nodded to agree with herself. “Those that don't deserve it? Kick them where it hurts.”

It was a good day.

  
  


He spent lots of time thinking, those days. When he was farming was the perfect time for it, with the work keeping his hands busy to let his mind roam. He realized that though he had been hurt, he had hurt others as well. Technoblade was perhaps the most prominent. Tommy figured he deserved forgiveness. It was the first time he had thought that.

He added carrots to his potato farm, and taught the village kids how to be gentle with bees. He leant his horse to a neighbor and wasn't surprised when it was returned. He drank warm drinks by his fireplace and listened to thunder rumbling outside, remembering Doomsday. He trimmed his hair to rest at his shoulders, with shorter chunks in the front that fell over his eyes annoyingly. He figured it was the kind of haircut that Wilbur would have laughed at, but it didn't matter to him. He kept it in a ponytail at the back of his head, even though most of it slipped out.

He woke one morning to the sound of alarm bells. The village was being raided—a village of farmers and builders, of children. He took a simple iron sword and shield from one of his chests and fell back into old rhythms. By the time the sun set he was dripping with gore, and marked with cuts, but the village was safe. He figured they would be afraid of him, now that they knew, but the reaction was opposite. From then on he was begged to retell stories of battles from long ago, and for a month afterward he found gifts at his front door. He invested in a netherite sword with a few simple enchantments, then found that he enjoyed mining and got himself some netherite armor as well. Maybe there would never be another raid, but at least the axe was good for chopping down trees, and the village kids begged to try on the ill fitting armor. They called him “ _Dimret atz Thomas_ ”, Thomas the Warrior. He didn't mind it as much as he thought he would.

His farm was plentiful. The village was good company. His house was comfortable and familiar. But something was missing. Something was always missing.

“Closure,” Gina told him in the village language, at nine and a half years since his departure from the DreamSMP. He'd long since told them his story. “You lack closure. You left on the cusp of a great upturning, and now you don't know how the story ends.”

“What am I supposed to do?” he bumped shoulders with her as they walked. “I can't go back. I can't leave you all.”

“We will always be here if you wish to come back,” Gina said as if it were decided. “And you'd better come back. I won't take care of your farm forever.”

He left the next spring.

  
  


The distance was shorter, this time. He took his netherite tools and chestplate (he left the rest of the armor to Gina), his horse, and enough food to last him a month. He was glad he didn't have to walk all that way, this time around. Boat rides with a horse were uncomfortable enough to make him half wish he'd walked after all.

“I wonder if Carl is still alive,” he mused aloud one day as they traveled across a plains biome. “And Puffy's horse... I can't remember its name. Maybe you can be friends, hmm Henry?”

Henry didn't respond. That was fair, since he was a horse.

His compass didn't work anymore, since the lodestone under the white house was exploded. He still kept it around his neck on a chain, tucked under his shirt and his cloak. It was warm against his chest as they grew closer and closer to the DreamSMP. Maybe it knew they were going home.

He wondered if the DreamSMP _was_ home anymore.

After two months of travel, his boat scraped onto the shore of Snowchester's island, the far side, away from Tubbo's old house (if it was still there, which he doubted). He hadn't gone far before he met a somewhat familiar face.

“Hello,” he called to the top of the nearby hill, where he had just glimpsed the flash of a figure. “I know you're up there Ranboo, you can come down.”

“How?” Ranboo emerged, five inches taller than Tommy had remembered, a scar curving around his right cheekbone to his jaw. “How did you know my name? Who are you?”

“Surely your memory problems aren't that bad,” Tommy pulled his hood off and brushed the hair out of his face. “Are they?”

“Tommy?”

“I'm back,” he shrugged. “Figured it was time.”

“We thought you were dead.”

“Figures,” he chuckled. “Dream would do that sort of thing, huh. Where is the old bastard anyway? I'd like to kick him where it hurts.”

Ranboo stepped forward and tilted his head. “He's... in prison. Has been for almost seven years. I can't believe you're alive.”

“Believe it,” Tommy grinned. “Lead the way back to civilization, big man, tell me how the SMP has been.”

“The egg is gone,” Ranboo said after a second of walking. “Sam found out that blue fire hurt the vines, so he and Techno burned down the cavern. Techno lost a life.”

“Guess Technoblade does die, sometimes,” Tommy hummed. “What else?”

“We put Dream in prison, after we found out he was the one who blew up the community house. He hates it there. Tried to escape a couple times, but Sam caught him quick. He uh, made a deal for outside time if he gave up what Schlatt gave him, which as it turns out was about how to bring people back to life.”

If Tommy hadn't been on a horse, he would have stopped in his tracks. “Bring...”

“Wilbur's back,” Ranboo fiddled with his hands. “And Tubbo. We debated bringing back Schlatt too, but-”

“Tubbo's alive?”

The hasty nod that Ranboo gave was all he needed. Henry broke into a run as Tommy urged him towards the lazily rising smoke of Snowchester, buildings appearing over the hills with their spruce roofs and walls. Henry's hooves clacked noisily on the stone pathway, but Tommy could barely hear it over the blood roaring in his ears.

Tubbo's house stood steady and whole in the place that it had always been.

He was off his horse before he had even come to a full stop, stumbling and slipping in the snow for a moment. The spruce door cracked open as a man stepped out.

His horns were full grown now, curling gracefully back and around his ears. His pants crumpled awkwardly around his boots, probably too tall for his short legs. He hadn't gotten any taller. The young softness was gone from his face, old white burn scars curling up to the edge of his chin. Overlying it was a thick white scar swiping around his neck.

Blue eyes met blue. Tubbo stared at Tommy for a solid three seconds before realization seemed to kick in.

"Tommy!" he shouted, practically throwing himself down the stairs and into Tommy, who couldn't resist wrapping his arms around and pulling him into the air. Tubbo was alive, he was warm, and Tommy could feel his chest heave with gleeful laughter as his hands clutched the back of his shirt. Tubbo was alive. Tubbo was alive.

"I can't believe it," he heard himself whisper, his grin salty with happy tears. "I can't… you're alive."

" _You're_ alive!" Tubbo retaliated with an extra tight squeeze. "No wonder the ritual didn't work to bring you back to life, you weren't dead! Tommy!"

"Tubbo!" he agreed, swaying in place for a few more seconds before bending over a bit and letting Tubbo back onto the ground. "Prime, big man, I can't believe…"

"Where were you?" Tubbo's eyes darted across his face like he was trying to drink in every new scar. "Were you okay? Were you safe?"

"I ran after Dream killed you," Tommy locked his eyes onto the hair above Tubbo's ears, where it always stuck up funny no matter how hard he tried to fix it. "I just picked a direction--went for about four months before I settled at a village. Been staying there ever since. I'm so sorry, Tubbo, I should have come back-"

"Who cares!" Tubbo shook his arms around as if he couldn't contain his glee. "You're here now, holy crap. Did you get taller?"

"An inch," Tommy finally let go of Tubbo's arms. "And I see you're still fuckin short. How is everyone?"

"Wilbur is back," Tubbo took a breath, still smiling. "He had some difficulties with being alive again, but he's all right now. The egg is gone, Dream is in prison, sometimes I visit just to shout at him."

"I'd love a shot at that," Tommy laughed as Ranboo finally caught up with them. "Maybe some other time, eh? We've got some catching up to do."

He spent the night in Tubbo's comfortable cabin, the two of them huddled in sleeping bags in front of the fire (they didn't need to, but it was fun) and talking endlessly about what they'd been up to until they both fell asleep. Tommy almost expected it to be a dream when he woke up.

Tubbo took him to see the rest of the SMP, which was surprisingly looking better than it had when he'd left. There were no more red vines polluting everything, and no more holes in the prime path, and a lot of the buildings had been repaired. His own dirt house was completely untouched, since apparently they'd been trying to revive him for the past six years and assumed he'd want it back. He decided to leave it for now.

As Tubbo showed him all the new builds, they ran into people. He was met with varying degrees of shock and hugs, occasionally followed by a lot of apologies.

"I'm so sorry I didn't come and help you," Punz's voice shook when they met in the rebuilt community house. "I've never regretted anything more in my life, Tommy. I'm so, so sorry."

The old Tommy would have shouted, and blamed, and argued. The new Tommy patted Punz on the shoulder.

"I get it, big man. You're forgiven."

It seemed that Eret had traded their crown for a shovel, as their castle was completely swamped with flowers and vines (green, not red) and a pond filled with lily pads. He met them wearing a brown gardening apron and they explained that they didn't want to rule the smp anymore, and that nobody ever would again. They tucked a cornflower into Tommy's ponytail before he left.

Tubbo took him through the community portal and down a cobblestone path that hadn't changed a bit since he'd put it there ten years ago. The snow bit into his face as they walked. Tubbo left him to go ahead by himself, to get some privacy with his family.

Phil answered the door.

"Who are… Tommy?"

"Evening," he nodded. "Can I come in? It's freezing out here."

The house had been expanded since he last lived in it. He noticed with a smile that there was still a charred patch of floorboard from his accident with an oil lamp.

"Been a while," he nodded to Phil. "How ya been?"

Techno stood behind the door, eyes huge with shock. The dagger he'd been holding clattered to the ground. "Heh?"

"I've been over this about a billion times already today," Tommy sighed. "I'm not dead, I ran away after Dream killed Tubbo, been living in a village ever since. I did miss you guys. A lot."

“You-” Phil stammered, blinking like he was trying to clear an afterimage from his mind. “You were- Tommy-”

“You were dead,” Techno's voice held something dangerous. “Do you have any idea- how heartbroken we were? Ghostbur didn't talk for weeks. Phil disappeared for three days- Tommy I mourned you. And all this time you were off gallivanting?”

“I won't apologize for that,” Tommy raised his chin to stare his pseudo-brother in the eye. “It was-”

Technoblade rushed forward and pulled him to his chest, curling around him and clutching his jacket like a lifeline.

“I'm glad you're okay,” his voice was raw and rumbling against Tommy's ear. He reached his arms around the piglin to hug back, giving him a pat. He wasn't sure if Techno had ever hugged him before.

“Uh,” Techno cleared his throat and pulled away. “We got your discs back. Tubbo has Mellohi, but Phil and I took Cat. Hold on, let me-” He hurried to his ender chest and pulled out a disc, gently holding it out to Tommy. “Here.”

He gingerly took it in his hands, turning it over to stare at the scratch on one side. It was old. It might not even play music anymore.

He held it back out. “You can keep it.”

“You-” Techno stared at the disc. “What?”

“It doesn't matter to me anymore, not much.” Tommy shrugged. “People are more important. Keep it.”

The disc went back into Techno's ender chest. Phil stared at him silently.

“We tried to revive you, y'know,” Techno glanced out the window, into the snow, then back at Tommy. “We had this sort of alter. Covered in things that might convince you to come back—your discs, a L'manburg flag, some cobblestone, even Tubbo. We tried for months. You never came back. We started- well. We started to think that maybe you just didn't want to. Or that you were gone forever.”

“Meanwhile I was farming potatoes,” Tommy grinned, then let his face fall. “I... I'm sorry I didn't send a sign that I was alive. I'm not sorry I left. I wanted to send you a letter or something, but I was afraid Dream would track it back to me. That he'd attack the village I lived in. My friends.”

“I get it,” Techno nodded. “I mean, I'm a little mad, but I get it.”

A weight suddenly slammed into his side, wings wrapping around him tightly. Phil buried his face in his son's shoulder.

“I'm so sorry,” he sobbed. “I should have done better, Tommy, I'm so sorry, I never should have sided with Dream, I never-”

Tommy twisted and hugged him back. “It's all right big man, you're forgiven.” The wings tightened around the two of them like a cocoon. “You're forgiven.”

The door swung open. “Guys? What are you-”

Wilbur froze in the doorway, eyes widened and locked onto Tommy's. His face was flushed from the cold, his hair was messy and damp, and he was alive.

Phil pulled away as he felt Tommy go limp. There was a clear pathway between him and Wilbur. Not Ghostbur. Wilbur. Alive.

Tommy took a jolting step forward, and a second later Wilbur did too. The distance closed between them as Wilbur reached up to hold Tommy's face in his hands, as if he couldn't believe it.

“Techno,” Wilbur's voice cracked, but it wasn't airy and echoing anymore. “Is this real?”

“He's alive,” Techno confirmed in a way that told Tommy that this happened a lot. “He was never dead.”

“This can't be real, it-” Wilbur inhaled sharply. “You've never been older before. Always younger, it- Tommy?”

“Wilbur,” Tommy swallowed. Wilbur's fingers curled around the back of his head and pulled him in tightly. Tommy wrapped his arms around his pseudo-brother and closed his eyes. Wilbur didn't smell like gunpowder and blood and musty caves anymore, he smelled like ink and chocolate and maybe a little bit like farm animals. Tommy realized he was crying, then he started laughing and hoisted Wilbur a few inches off the ground, a quirk he'd always had but only ever been able to do with Tubbo. He wouldn't be shocked if he was able to pick up Techno, now.

Yeah. He could stay for a while.

  
  


The lava radiated uncomfortable warmth across his face as it slowly fell from the ceiling. Falling, falling falling, then it was gone. Across an ocean of magma was an obsidian prison, with a single figure inside.

“Stay steady,” Sam nodded at him. “Here it goes.”

The platform under his feet lurched forward, carrying Tommy with it. He wobbled for a moment before he got his balance.

It came to a halt in front of the prison, where Dream stood behind netherite bars. Sam said they were new. The platform receded behind him and the lava fell again.

Dream was maskless, for the first time Tommy had ever seen. His nose was crooked, and there was a scar over his left eye. His smile was sharp and ingenuine.

“So, Tommy. You finally came crawling back.”

“I came here on a horse actually,” Tommy shrugged. “What about you?”

“In chains,” Dream tilted his head. “Because my only friend abandoned me. I was trying to help you, Tommy.”

“Sure,” Tommy didn't bother indulging him. “Aren't you curious to know where I've been?”

Dream's unscarred eye twitched. “Guilty. Where have you been, Tommy?”

“A village,” Tommy nodded. “I was a farmer. Potatoes, if you can believe it, and carrots. My friend Gina is taking care of it while I'm away.”

“And I assume the villagers fell at your feet?” Dream scoffed. “That you were their hero? The great TommyInnit?”

“Nah,” he laughed. “Just friends. I suppose that's more than you can say.”

“You're here to gloat?”

“Mostly, yeah. I just thought I would tell you how I was doing.”

“And how are you doing?”

“I don't forgive you,” Tommy smiled. “But I don't hate you. Maybe you can change. But I don't forgive you, and I never will. You aren't worthy of forgiveness.”

“Boo hoo,” Dream snorted. “You think I care? I never cared about you, Tommy. I lied.”

“Duh,” Tommy raised an eyebrow. “We all know you lied.”

“So why the hell are you here?”

Tommy took a second to think. “A friend once told me; 'Forgive those who deserve forgiveness. Those who don't? Kick them where it hurts'.”

“So you're here to beat me up?” Dream tilted his head. “Fine. Open the door, kill me, show me what you're made of. Kick me where it hurts, Tommy.”

He sighed. “Nah. Here's the thing, Dream. I don't need to prove myself to you. I don't owe you anything. And I'm not going to beat the shit out of you. I'm here to say goodbye.”

“Goodbye?” Dream drummed his fingers on the bars. “You aren't... coming back? You won't miss me?”

“No.” Tommy said simply. “So I suppose this is goodbye, Dream. Forever.”

“Forever's a long time,” Dream's voice sped up slightly, raising in pitch. “I mean, what if you change your mind? What if-”

“I won't. This is goodbye.”

“Wait, Tommy,” Dream chuckled nervously. “Hold on. We're friends, right? I- hold on-”

“Send the platform back, Sam!”

“Wait!” Dream gripped the bars as the lava began to drop. “Tommy I- I'm sorry. I'm sorry, Tommy, I- I really do regret the things I did to you. I do. I swear.”

“Hm.” Tommy hummed. “Well, good for you.”

He stepped onto the platform and allowed himself to be carried away. The lava fell behind him, locking away the man who had hurt them all so much.

“What now?” Sam broke his warden persona, something he'd already done twice to apologize to Tommy for not helping in the first place. “I mean, without Dream. What now?”

“Well,” Tommy grinned, feeling the world open. “I suppose I'm going to find out.”

**Author's Note:**

> After the shitshow that was Tommy's stream last night, I figured y'all could use some happy endings, so I decided to post the story that I finished a while ago. I'm in pain but at least I have this.
> 
> Oooo you wanna draw fanart. You wanna draw fanart so bad. My tumblr is ScumbagSimon oooooo you want to send me fanart so bad


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